My sense of humor seems to be matching Gamma’s pretty well lately. We were smelling shower soaps at the supermarket last Saturday, standing there in the aisle and making fun of the loopy names and scents and laughing our heads off.
She’s 12 now, with all that entails.
We have a family tradition of stealing one another’s food. It goes back generations but has been perfected by Gamma and the cats. Gamma would rather steal your food than share it with you when you offer.
Last night I offered her the last tomato soup, for example. No thanks, she said. Then she yelled at the cat to get out of the living room. I jumped up and searched the living room, yelling all the while at a hypothetical cat which may or may not have been in the living room but is definitely not allowed to be in there. When I returned to the kitchen without spotting the cat, Gamma was polishing off the tomato soup and laughing and laughing.